“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” “Don’t be silly, Mr. Savile didn’t touch you there!” “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” That’s what all our parents used to say, isn’t it? And they were always right, weren’t they? Wrong. Although the first two remain fairly sound to this day, it’s a different story when it comes to the last two. I’ll let the BBC attempt to explain their way out of the second to last one, and I’ll take issue with the last one. I believe, after all, that SATELLITES.01 can be massively judged, quite literally, by its cover. The cover is a combination ofmatte and metallic silver, the artwork printed onto the actual CD looks like asatellite – it all points towards the idea that Satellites is inspired by everything otherworldly. So why does this lead to my doubting that a book should never be judged by its cover? Because SATELLITES.01 sounds exactly how it looks. It produces bleeps and bloops, just as a satellite would – the beats on Railway Line are not so dissimilar to those which used to be favoured by The Postal Service and Best Days Of Our Lives could well fit in on Paul Banks’ recent LP, both of which are connoisseurs of music verging on the ‘techy’ side of things. It’s complicated, just as (I imagine) a satellite is – throughout the album there is much going on, with the multiple layers of Sale Of The Century and the curious combination of acoustic guitar and electronica on Mindreading. Although it is easy to admire the complex nature of Satellites’ style, the appreciation becomes that much higher when it considered that Satellites is comprised of only one man – Englishman living in Copenhagen, Johnny Vic. Come to think of it, maybe Johnny’s getting more help from outer space than we first thought?
4/5
Released by Vesterbrother/Pias UK on 21st January 2013
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